


Pretty Far From Brooklyn

by sharkyclarky



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, Angst, Death, Family, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkyclarky/pseuds/sharkyclarky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stay with me" she said, her sparkling eyes open again, so full of the life that was slowly draining away from her. "Just stay with me, until I fall asleep." <br/>It's funny how one little sacrifice shows who your true family are. <br/>One-shot also posted on FF.Net</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Far From Brooklyn

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my older fics so the spelling, grammar and overall writing isn't great.   
> But Kudos/Comment anyway ;)

Alec was standing atop the highest point he could find, watching the battle from the skies as he let arrow after arrow loose, always hitting its target. From his vantage point he had the added bonus of seeing the entire battlefield from above, allowing him to keep watch of his family. He looked out for the sparkle of Magnus's magic, the golden flash of Isabelle's whip and just looking out for Jace in general.

Though he would never admit it, there was third person he was watching out for. He scanned the battle field, picking off dark shadowhunters as and when they attacked, doing his best to check for a flicker of red hair, just enough to show she was still alive.

If you were to ask Alec if he loved Clary, he would deny it - 'I've come to accept her' he'd say, or 'she makes Jace happy, who am I to argue?' - but deep down in was obvious, even if he would never admit it to himself.

The battle kept raging on, the flash of seraph and demonic blades sparking as they struck against each other, a never ending battle with Jonathon Christopher Morgenstern as its leader.

"Alec!" Alec's head whipped around at the sound of his sisters scream. His blue eyes met her brown as she frantically slashed and tore away at people attacking the base of the rock Alec was stationed at. Her eyes were huge, wild and – though she would deny it – afraid. With a bloody hand, she pointed to behind Alec, her lack of concentration earning her a slash to the arm.

"Isabelle!" he shouted back, pulling an arrow from his quiver to shoot at his sisters attackers. Pulling the string tight he heard her scream out to him again.

"Never mind me!" she screamed, not looking at him as she spoke. "Look behind you, moron!" and so she continued to fight, her whip slicing the air, hitting leather and skin with a deafening crack, the gold flickering like a ray of sun.

Spinning on his heel, Alec saw Isabelle's cause for alarm. Three dark shadowhunters, victim to Jonathon's dark cup, at the top of the slope. It wasn't a steep slope, but it was long enough to give Alec the vantage point of picking off any who tired to climb it before they took more than six steps. His lack of concentration had cost him precious time and the three shadowhunters advanced.

He pulled the bow string tight, letting the first arrow whistle past without any thought. _Miss_. The dark shadowhunter, a man with greasy black hair, and eyes as dark as the void rolled to his left, landing in the perfect crouch. The next arrow hit, embedding its self in the second man's arm, causing him to howl in pain, a sound more animal than human.

Alec didn't realise the third man had made his way behind him, quick and soundless as a bird, until Alec felt his quiver of arrows, the only ammunition he held, ripped from his back, the sheer force of the leather straps pulling him backwards until he landed on his back, his head impacting with the hard, stone ground.

His vision was hazy, black spots dotting the edges as he tried to see his attackers. One grabbed his bow, snapping the strong wood until it broke like a twig, splinters falling at Alec's feet. They advanced, blades in hand, the one who stole his quiver holding him down by the shoulders, the one who snapped his bow smiling grimly as he threw the remains of Alec's first weapon off the side of the hill.

He struggled, pushing all his weight against the man who held him, earning nothing but a low growl that sounded somewhat like a laugh and the feel of finger nails biting into his flesh. Even through his gear.

The weight lifted, and Alec turned just in time to see the body of a man, the one who held his shoulders fall over the edge, landing with a thud on the ground. There was a flash of red as his saviour attacked the remaining two men. Whoever it was, they were small and fast, fast enough to dodge even Jonathon's army's attacks. The final two men fell, and Alec's vision had somewhat improved. He saw a hand, small and slender reaching towards him, a hand slick with blood, some dried some not. Looking up, his blue eyes met the smiling green of Clary.

Grabbing her hand, Alec rose to his feet.

Alec would never admit it, but he'd never been so relieved to see the small red head in his life. Her eyes were wide and alive, the emerald of them shining like the sun, lighting the otherwise dark battle field. Her face was cut and bloody, but she was smiling, a smile Alec knew from so many years as Jace's Parabatai. The thrill of the fight.

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking over Alec's shoulder at the absence of a quiver, he smiling slightly. "Your bow!" she said, looking all around the trampled, bloody grass for the non-existent bow. Alec opened his mouth to tell her to stop, to tell not to worry, when he saw one of the bodies stir.

"Clary!" he shouted, pointing to the man on the floor, the one with the greasy black hair. She turned to Alec, and then followed his eyes, a gasp escaping her cracked lips. Alec didn't think, he grabbed a spare blade fro Clary's belt, holding it in his sore, blistered hands.

" _Eremiel_ " he shouted before letting the blade fly, hitting the man in the chest. He'd risen to his full height by the time Alec hit him, a wicked smile was playing on his lips before his face fell slack and his body crumpled.

"Alec" Clary voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Alec heard it. Turning around he saw her. The sun was hidden behind the dark grey clouds, yet she still looked like she was shinning. Her gear was ripped in several places, dried blood crusting the thick leather. Her pale hands were over her stomach, holding them there in the way the silent brothers did. It was hard to see in the dark light the blood slipping through her fingers, dripping onto the floor.

"Clary!" he shouted, running towards her, catching her just as her body crumpled. He rested her head in his lap as he gently pried her hands from her wound. The blade was still embedded in Clary's flesh, blood pouring out from either side. Alec yanked the demonic blade from her abdomen, not even wincing as the demonic fire burnt his hand. "You're okay" he said, his voice shaky, as he fumbled along his belt for his stele "You're going to be okay" he tapped the cool metal against his hand, ignoring how the end blazed like witchlight. Ripping away the gear from her stomach, he drew the healing rune.

His nose was filled with the burning scent the accompanied a fresh rune, his heart lifting slightly as it sunk into her skin, fading the way a rune should. Only when he saw Clary's wound, open and bleeding profusely did his hear sink back down to his stomach like a rock in a pond. Again and again he drew the _iratze_ hoping more and more each time that the wound would heal.

"Alec," he looked at Clary, her eyes were still bright and alive, although they'd dimmed slightly. "Please stop." she said, her broken and choked voice burning away at Alec's insides, melting away any hopes and wishes that she was going to be okay, just those two little words.

"You can't just die." he said, the Lightwood stubbornness that both his parents and his sister always held showing through the determination in his voice "Jace needs you, we need you." he stopped, the lump in his throat too strong to talk through, but he managed. "I need you."

"I though you hated me?" Clary said with a half hearted smile, tears beginning to pool in her eyes before spilling down over her cheeks leaving clear tracks through the dirt and blood on her pale face.

"I used to," Alec said honestly "but after all you've done for us, for my family, for Jace." he said thinking to how much more alive Jace was, how he went hunting without the soul purpose of getting himself killed. She'd given Jace a reason to save the world, but also a reason to stay in it. "How could I hate you after all that? You're one of us. Family." he said, feeling the tears prickling the backs of his eyes, but Alec wouldn't cry.

He swiped a thumb under her eyes, wiping away her tears, smudging the grime across her face in the process. She smiled, her eyes closing at his touch. If she had to die, she was glad to know she wasn't alone, the way she had always feared.

"Don't worry." Alec said, shuffling slightly so that Clary's head rested on something else, something cold and soft. She soon saw that Alec had taken of his gear, removing his notorious blue sweater that he wore underneath leaving him in a black t-shirt. "I'll go get, help, I'll go get Jace"

"Stay with me." Clary said, stopping him mid-way through shrugging on his gear, his jumper being used as a pillow for Clary's head to rest. "Please, stay with me." she said. Clary wasn't a fool, she knew she didn't have long, and she wasn't naïve enough to believe there was still hope, that she could be healed, she knew she was too far gone.

Alec looked torn, his eyes switching between her and the battle field, praying Jace was within shouting distance. Finally, he nodded, kneeling back down next to Clary, lifting her head back onto his lap. He couldn't refuse her when she looked so tiny and childlike alone on the ground.

"I don't want to be alone." she breathed, more tears falling down her cheeks, this time though, Alec felt one of his own. Wiping it away briskly he returned his gaze to the dying girl in his lap. _Too young._ He thought, looking at the youthful curve of her face, how her skin was untouched by age, her hair still so red and. _Only sixteen._

"Can I do anything?" he asked feeling so helpless without anyone by his side, not Jace, not Magnus, not even Izzy. His stele was hopeless and Magnus was somewhere fighting for the nephilim, a battle he was in for one reason - him.

"Stay with me." she said, her green eyes open again, so full of the life that was slowly draining away from her. "Just stay with me, until I fall asleep." Alec would never admit it, but he choked out a single sob at those words, another tear falling from his eyes, even as he clenched them shut.

He heard a laugh, a forced and broken chuckle, soft enough to be from a child. He looked at the girl on his lap and saw Clary's smiling eyes gazing back at him, the light smile gracing her beautiful features. Alec had never seen Clary as beautiful, or any girls besides his sister and his mother for that matter. But looking at her now, tears streaking down her face, blood beginning to dribble from the corner of her mouth, he saw what Jace had fallen in love with, what Isabelle had been jealous of, he saw the defiant, natural beauty that was Clary.

Her eyes were large and round, full of life and energy, even as she died. Her hair was unruly but it worked for her, framing her small porcelain face perfectly. She was skinny, but even beneath all the gear Alec knew her body was strong. Had Alec not been in love, he was sure his breath would have been stolen by the beauty of this dying girl. Because that's all she was, a girl.

"Pretty far from Brooklyn," she said with a pained smile "Isn't it?" Alec laughed a genuine laugh. They were slap bang in the middle of a warzone, yet the two teens laughed, smiling away at a joke no one would understand. Here she was, Clarissa Fairchild, the chosen one, Valentine's daughter, sister to the boy who started the war, dying in his arms. Alec had already lost one sibling, he couldn't loose another. It struck him then that he did consider Clary family; she was as much a Lightwood as Jace was, and she was dying for him.

In ten years time, how many people could Alec say died for him that day? How many people could say anyone died for them? And Alec held only one thought as he watched Clary drifting away in his arms. _It should have been me._ Alec finally let the tears from his eyes, releasing all the pain and the agony that had been plaguing him since the war began, watching as they slowly splashed on Clary's pale face. He wiped them away delicately as she smiled up at him, her eyes fixed, her body still. Clary was very far from Brooklyn now.

* * *

People often asked why Alec named his adoptive daughter what he did, they would ask why she wasn't named after the mother he had lost to the war, or after the sister that had joined the vampires with her boyfriend, the day-lighter. They would ask why he and his boyfriend bought her paints and canvases for her birthdays, not weapons and steles.

They would ask why his Parabatai disappeared after the battle, why the greatest demon hunter of his age left for the mundane world, where he lived with a strange young warlock girl with old grey eyes, travelling the world and seeing its wonders, why Alec was the last person he spoke to.

They would ask why he and Magnus chose that baby girl in particular, the small, runty one; with a head full of curls and green eyes the colour of summer grass. And to these questions, Alexander Gideon Lightwood would answer the exact same thing.

"She reminds me of the sister who saved my life."


End file.
